Disclaimer: We don't own it. We only own Rose, Dominique, and the Giry clones.

Yes, this is a combined parody, created by the infamous Supergirrl and BlackTippedRose.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if an Anti-Phan and Erik's daughter taught a class on writing together? I'm sure you secretly have. Just like you have secretly put me on your hitlist.

When you see that little break in the story, that is where Supergirrl's writing ends, and mine begins. But you definatly need to read both.

(Set when Erik and Christine are married).

Broadwaygirl; you'd better watch your back. We're aiming for your title.

ENJOY!!

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The class of students, all seated at their desks, were chatting happily amongs themselves until the teacher walked into the room.

The second Dominique Destler strode through the doors, the room became silent. Their teacher was intimidating, tall with long black hair and green eyes that glittered dangerously over the black veil that obscured her lower face, and wore a black cape over a dress so dark it was almost black. Her steps were long and almost like a cat's, with an air of pride and deep disdain for those around her.

In short, Dominique was the spitting image of her father, and had a temper to match. Not a teacher to mess with, that was certain.

Once she reached the front of the classroom, Dominique turned and surveyed the students before her with an annoyed look in her eye. They cringed as she opened her mouth, and said, "These are the morons I must work with, and teach? Standards for writers are low these days. Anyways, here are the rules."

The pessimistic teenager grabbed a piece of chalk lying on the little chalk rim and began to write things in an elaborate, flowing script that no one could read. After breaking several pieces of chalk-Dominique wrote with an intensity that implied that each piece of chalk had done her a great personal wrong- she picked up what looked like a small version of Madame Giry's cane, and hit the board with it repeatedly as she recited the rules," Rule one, you don't look at my veil. Rule two; you don't talk about my veil. Rule three; you do not touch my veil. Rule four-"

An unfortunate student raised his hand and said," Um, ma'am, is it okay if we think about your veil?"

In the small room that held the TVs showing what the closed-circuit cameras placed in the classrooms were recording, Christine dropped her head into her hands. "She's going to kill him."

Erik was absentmindedly writing down whatever musical notes popped into his head on his desk by the TVs, and said in a voice that made him sound in the general neighborhood of sane, which was an unusual occurrence, "Relax, honey, it'll be fine. Dominique is a smart girl, I'm sure she won't do anything rash. Mark my words, it'll all work-"

She grabbed Erik's head and turned it towards the screen. He watched with a shudder as Dominique Punjabbed the unlucky student, and performed a shorter, slightly modified version of Strange Than You Dreamt It, while the rest of the class watched on, horrified.

"Then again, I have been known to make mistakes."

Christine groaned. "Rose, I thought we agreed no weapons for Dominique."

Rose, the other teacher, was lounging in a recliner chair, playing a Gameboy with creepy, unblinking concentration. Without looking up, she replied in a bored tone, "Tell you what, you can tell Miss Anger Management Issues that she's not allowed to have weapons at school, and you get to take them away from her. See, I like life, and don't want to die in my prime because of a homicidal disfigured maniac. Major offense, Erik."

He looked incredibly miffed, and said," Much taken," but didn't kill her because Christine was in the room.

Rose shrugged. "Why don't you take away her Punjab? She'll listen to you."

Erik snorted with laughter. "I have a fifty-fifty chance of her listening to anything I say. She hit that rebellious streak, and I lost all control."

"Oh, well. Oh, high score!" She seemed happy again.

Christine dropped her head on her desk, resisting the urge to bang it over and over again. She was stuck with her homicidal daughter, her husband who took great pride in her homicidal daughter, and a nine-year old who hated her husband with a passion. What was a ditzy soprano to do?

Christine used her only option:

She called in the reinforcements.

Madame Giry clones, stolen from Cape Swooshing, were on stand-by in the surrounding hallways. With a touch of a button depicting a large cane, Girys stormed the classroom, all carrying canes loaded with tranquilizer darts. Flashing their IDs that revealed them as double-00s at the students, one came up from behind Dominique and with a single well-aimed shot, nailed her in the back with a dart.

Dominique pulled out her Punjab-

And was hit with another dart, this one from the front. Spinning around to Punjab this clone, another one got her from the side, then another, and another.

Soon she had upwards of five darts in various parts of her skinny body, and after several half-hearted twirls, she collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

The Giry clones, with some effort, lifted her and began to carry her out of the classroom. The stunned students stared at the body of the dead boy who had dared speak to the Lady Phantom about her veil with horrified expressions, until the clones draped a blanket over his body and picked him up.

"You saw nothing," the Giry carrying the lifeless body whispered, backing out of the room slowly.

Christine, visibly relieved that they had managed to subdue Dominique without further casualties, wiped the sweat from her pale brow.

"Rose, I think you'll have to take over the rest of this class."

Rose stood without looking up from the Gameboy she was frantically playing.

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Destler," She said as she began to exit the room.

Christine sighed, "Rose, not with the Gameboy."

Rose groaned, seeming very upset as she tossed it at Christine, who caught it and handed it to her husband.

"You're a genius, you should be able to play one stupid game of Tetris."

She regretted giving it to him when he refused to eat or sleep for a until he beat the game.

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All of the students, having been scarred for life from Dominique's lesson, were cowering. When the door opened, the ex-girlfriend of the punjabbed boy began crying.

But they didn't see anyone come in.

They were all confused until a bunch of phonebooks were dropped onto the ground, and a very small child climbed on top of them, using the Dominique cane to balance herself.

And boy were they surprised.

She was a little kid. Just some little, nine-year-old child. Her hair was long, almost to her scrawny waist, light brown and streaked with gold. Her dress was white, to her ankles, and she had a white cape, too. She looked out curiously to the class with large, sparkling ivy eyes. Unlike her partner, she had the air of someone slightly klutzy, overly cheerful, and very fragile. Her name was Rose, and she was a rare breed. She was one of the three only Anti-Phans.

Actually, when she walked in, the sun outside got brighter, and little flowers sprouted where she walked.

Wow. It's amazing what Tetris can do to you.

She suddenly smiled, which severely creeped many of them out. They weren't ready for happy.

"Hi!"

Silence.

The 9-year-old teacher frowned. "I'm Rose. Sorry about Dominique, she's now back in her little asylum, getting scolded by Erik. At least, I think she is. I think Erik might congratulate her…" she trailed off, then smiled again.

"How many of you like Erik?"

All the girls and gay guys in the room slowly rose their hands. She frowned a little.

"Erik sucks." Rose then turned around to face the blackboard, causing many jaw-drops.

"You guys know Dominique's rules, but here are mine." She picked up a piece of chalk, dropped it, and frowned. Dominique had broken all the pieces of chalk besides that one. Quickly, she crawled off the phonebooks, got the piece of chalk, climbed back on, and in very sloppy chicken-scratch, wrote quickly.

"1: You will not ask me if I have parents. 2: You will not ask me if I am some sort of fairy, pixie, or otherwise unnaturally happy creature. 3: There will be no Erik worshiping in here. 4: You will not feed me sugar. 5: You don't ever write slash. 6:-"

"Why can't we write slash? It's funny!" spoke up a student in the front. Rose turned, her happy exterior fading instantly.

"If you write slash, I'll bring Dominique back in here to teach it to you."

They all silenced again. The small teacher smiled once again. "I bet you're all good at writing!"

"What are you, the alter ego of Dominique?" the same student demanded.

"Is that a problem?"

They all shook their heads. It was a definite improvement from the homicidal teacher.

In the other room, Erik was gaping at the smiling, happy teacher insulting him. "Darling, can we get rid of her?"

Christine, who was sitting next to her daughter and softly brushing her hair (Dominique was obviously still sedated), looked over at the child in the room.

"No! She's such a sweet little girl."

"She's teaching people to hate me!"

"But Erik, love, she's just a little child. You can't harm her," Christine was now braiding Dominique's hair, who was just barely out of the sedation and sending desperate looks to her father. She ever so slowly lifted her right arm and tried to sneak it behind her mother to grab the Punjab. Christine smacked her hand down.

"I say we kill her, then burn the body," Dominique mumbled, rubbing her hand. Her mother frowned and hugged her daughter, causing a twitch and muffled scream.

"Sweetie, you mustn't think such harsh thoughts."

Dominique sent her father another look, on the verge of attacking her mother, but Erik shook his head.

But when Christine handed her daughter Rose's CosmoGIRL magazine, she snapped. She tore it into little itsy bitsy shreds, then pulled her emergency match out of her pocket, struck it against the wall, lit the shreds on fire, and watched them be reduced to ashes. Then she went back to glaring at her father.

"I thought I told you to make sure she was unhappy, so she wouldn't be like this when she came in."

"She was unhappy!" Erik snapped, receiving a look from his wife.

"That's because she's always unhappy around you, Papa."

"Aww, Dommi, you ruined your little friend's book!" Christine said suddenly, noticing the little black remains.

And that was the worst thing that could have been said.

"Little friend!" she exclaimed shrilly. "Little friend?! I don't even like the stupid kid! I'm just stuck teaching with her!" Dominique sucked in a deep breath, altering her voice to be high, squeaky, and childish.

"Look at me, I'm some little kid named Rooossee. I'm all rainbows and butterflies, and I think the world is a wonderful place!" Dominique went back to her real voice, growling curses under her breath.

"And never, ever, ever call me Dommi."

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A/N: Love it? Hate it? Want us to delete it? xD Too bad. We're going to try and keep it.

Any ideas for the story? Review, people. You know we love them.